Chapter 2

APOLLO. I swear, for all thy bitter pride, a fall Awaits thee. One even now comes conquering Towards this house, sent by a southland king To fetch him four wild coursers, of the race Which rend men's bodies in the winds of Thrace. This house shall give him welcome good, and he Shall wrest this woman from thy worms and thee. So thou shalt give me all, and thereby win But hatred, not the grace that might have been. [_Exit_ APOLLO.]

THANATOS. Talk on, talk on! Thy threats shall win no bride From me.--This woman, whatsoe'er betide, Shall lie in Hades' house. Even at the word I go to lay upon her hair my sword. For all whose head this grey sword visiteth To death are hallowed and the Lords of death.

[THANATOS _goes into the house. Presently, as the day grows lighter, the_ CHORUS _enters: it consists of Citizens of Pherae, who speak severally._]

CHORUS.

LEADER. Quiet, quiet, above, beneath!

SECOND ELDER. The house of Admetus holds its breath.

THIRD ELDER. And never a King's friend near, To tell us either of tears to shed For Pelias' daughter, crowned and dead; Or joy, that her eyes are clear. Bravest, truest of wives is she That I have seen or the world shall see.

DIVERS CITIZENS, _conversing_. (The dash -- indicates a new speaker.)

--Hear ye no sob, or noise of hands Beating the breast? No mourners' cries For one they cannot save? --Nothing: and at the door there stands No handmaid.--Help, O Paian; rise, O star beyond the wave!

--Dead, and this quiet? No, it cannot be. --Dead, dead!--Not gone to burial secretly!

--Why? I still fear: what makes your speech so brave? --Admetus cast that dear wife to the grave Alone, with none to see?

--I see no bowl of clear spring water. It ever stands before the dread Door where a dead man rests. --No lock of shorn hair! Every daughter Of woman shears it for the dead. No sound of bruisèd breasts!

--Yet 'tis this very day ...--This very day? --The Queen should pass and lie beneath the clay. --It hurts my life, my heart!--All honest hearts Must sorrow for a brightness that departs, A good life worn away.

LEADER. To wander o'er leagues of land, To search over wastes of sea, Where the Prophets of Lycia stand, Or where Ammon's daughters three Make runes in the rainless sand, For magic to make her free-- Ah, vain! for the end is here; Sudden it comes and sheer. What lamb on the altar-strand Stricken shall comfort me?

SECOND ELDER. Only, only one, I know: Apollo's son was he, Who healed men long ago. Were he but on earth to see, She would rise from the dark below And the gates of eternity. For men whom the Gods had slain He pitied and raised again; Till God's fire laid him low, And now, what help have we?

OTHERS. All's done that can be. Every vow Full paid; and every altar's brow Full crowned with spice of sacrifice. No help remains nor respite now.

_Enter from the Castle a_ HANDMAID, _almost in tears._

LEADER. But see, a handmaid cometh, and the tear Wet on her cheek! What tiding shall we hear?... Thy grief is natural, daughter, if some ill Hath fallen to-day. Say, is she living still Or dead, your mistress? Speak, if speak you may.

MAID. Alive. No, dead.... Oh, read it either way.

LEADER. Nay, daughter, can the same soul live and die?

MAID. Her life is broken; death is in her eye.

LEADER. Poor King, to think what she was, and what thou!

MAID. He never knew her worth.... He will know it now.

LEADER. There is no hope, methinks, to save her still?

MAID. The hour is come, and breaks all human will.

LEADER. She hath such tendance as the dying crave?

MAID. For sure: and rich robes ready for her grave.

LEADER. 'Fore God, she dies high-hearted, aye, and far In honour raised above all wives that are!

MAID. Far above all! How other? What must she, Who seeketh to surpass this woman, be? Or how could any wife more shining make Her lord's love, than by dying for his sake? But thus much all the city knows. 'Tis here, In her own rooms, the tale will touch thine ear With strangeness. When she knew the day was come, She rose and washed her body, white as foam, With running water; then the cedarn press She opened, and took forth her funeral dress And rich adornment. So she stood arrayed Before the Hearth-Fire of her home, and prayed: "Mother, since I must vanish from the day, This last, last time I kneel to thee and pray; Be mother to my two children! Find some dear Helpmate for him, some gentle lord for her. And let not them, like me, before their hour Die; let them live in happiness, in our Old home, till life be full and age content." To every household altar then she went And made for each his garland of the green Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen Praying, without a sob, without a tear. She knew the dread thing coming, but her clear Cheek never changed: till suddenly she fled Back to her own chamber and bridal bed: Then came the tears and she spoke all her thought. "O bed, whereon my laughing girlhood's knot Was severed by this man, for whom I die, Farewell! 'Tis thou ... I speak not bitterly.... 'Tis thou hast slain me. All alone I go Lest I be false to him or thee. And lo, Some woman shall lie here instead of me-- Happier perhaps; more true she cannot be." She kissed the pillow as she knelt, and wet With flooding tears was that fair coverlet. At last she had had her fill of weeping; then She tore herself away, and rose again, Walking with downcast eyes; yet turned before She had left the room, and cast her down once more Kneeling beside the bed. Then to her side The children came, and clung to her and cried, And her arms hugged them, and a long good-bye She gave to each, like one who goes to die. The whole house then was weeping, every slave In sorrow for his mistress. And she gave Her hand to all; aye, none so base was there She gave him not good words and he to her. So on Admetus falls from either side Sorrow. 'Twere bitter grief to him to have died Himself; and being escaped, how sore a woe He hath earned instead--Ah, some day he shall know!

LEADER. Surely Admetus suffers, even to-day, For this true-hearted love he hath cast away?

MAID. He weeps; begs her not leave him desolate, And holds her to his heart--too late, too late! She is sinking now, and there, beneath his eye Fading, the poor cold hand falls languidly, And faint is all her breath. Yet still she fain Would look once on the sunlight--once again And never more. I will go in and tell Thy presence. Few there be, will serve so well My master and stand by him to the end. But thou hast been from olden days our friend. [_The_ MAID _goes in_.]

CHORUS.

THIRD ELDER. O Zeus, What escape and where From the evil thing? How break the snare That is round our King?

SECOND ELDER. Ah list! One cometh?... No. Let us no more wait; Make dark our raiment And shear this hair.

LEADER. Aye, friends! 'Tis so, even so. Yet the gods are great And may send allayment. To prayer, to prayer!

ALL (_praying_). O Paian wise! Some healing of this home devise, devise! Find, find.... Oh, long ago when we were blind Thine eyes saw mercy ... find some healing breath! Again, O Paian, break the chains that bind; Stay the red hand of Death!

LEADER. Alas! What shame, what dread, Thou Pheres' son, Shalt be harvested When thy wife is gone!

SECOND ELDER. Ah me; For a deed less drear Than this thou ruest Men have died for sorrow; Aye, hearts have bled.

THIRD ELDER. 'Tis she; Not as men say dear, But the dearest, truest, Shall lie ere morrow Before thee dead!

ALL. But lo! Once more! She and her husband moving to the door! Cry, cry! And thou, O land of Pherae, hearken! The bravest of women sinketh, perisheth, Under the green earth, down where the shadows darken, Down to the House of Death!

[_During the last words_ ADMETUS _and_ ALCESTIS _have entered_. ALCESTIS _is supported by her Handmaids and followed by her two children._]

LEADER. And who hath said that Love shall bring More joy to man than fear and strife? I knew his perils from of old, I know them now, when I behold The bitter faring of my King, Whose love is taken, and his life Left evermore an empty thing.

ALCESTIS. O Sun, O light of the day that falls! O running cloud that races along the sky!

ADMETUS. They look on thee and me, a stricken twain, Who have wrought no sin that God should have thee slain.

ALCESTIS. Dear Earth, and House of sheltering walls, And wedded homes of the land where my fathers lie!

ADMETUS. Fail not, my hapless one. Be strong, and pray The o'er-mastering Gods to hate us not alway.

ALCESTIS (_faintly, her mind wandering_). A boat two-oared, upon water; I see, I see. And the Ferryman of the Dead, His hand that hangs on the pole, his voice that cries; "Thou lingerest; come. Come quickly, we wait for thee." He is angry that I am slow; he shakes his head.

ADMETUS. Alas, a bitter boat-faring for me, My bride ill-starred.--Oh, this is misery!

ALCESTIS (_as before_). Drawing, drawing! 'Tis some one that draweth me ... To the Palaces of the Dead. So dark. The wings, the eyebrows and ah, the eyes!... Go back! God's mercy! What seekest thou? Let me be!... (_Recovering_) Where am I? Ah, and what paths are these I tread?

ADMETUS. Grievous for all who love thee, but for me And my two babes most hard, most solitary.

ALCESTIS. Hold me not; let me lie.-- I am too weak to stand; and Death is near, And a slow darkness stealing on my sight. My little ones, good-bye. Soon, soon, and mother will be no more here.... Good-bye, two happy children in the light.

ADMETUS. Oh, word of pain, oh, sharper ache Than any death of mine had brought! For the Gods' sake, desert me not, For thine own desolate children's sake. Nay, up! Be brave. For if they rend Thee from me, I can draw no breath; In thy hand are my life and death, Thine, my belovèd and my friend!

ALCESTIS. Admetus, seeing what way my fortunes lie, I fain would speak with thee before I die. I have set thee before all things; yea, mine own Life beside thine was naught. For this alone I die.... Dear Lord, I never need have died. I might have lived to wed some prince of pride, Dwell in a king's house.... Nay, how could I, torn From thee, live on, I and my babes forlorn? I have given to thee my youth--not more nor less, But all--though I was full of happiness. Thy father and mother both--'tis strange to tell-- Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well, The years were ripe, to die and save their son, The one child of the house: for hope was none, If thou shouldst pass away, of other heirs. So thou and I had lived through the long years, Both. Thou hadst not lain sobbing here alone For a dead wife and orphan babes.... 'Tis done Now, and some God hath wrought out all his will. Howbeit I now will ask thee to fulfill One great return-gift--not so great withal As I have given, for life is more than all; But just and due, as thine own heart will tell. For thou hast loved our little ones as well As I have.... Keep them to be masters here In my old house; and bring no stepmother Upon them. She might hate them. She might be Some baser woman, not a queen like me, And strike them with her hand. For mercy, spare Our little ones that wrong. It is my prayer.... They come into a house: they are all strife And hate to any child of the dead wife.... Better a serpent than a stepmother! A boy is safe. He has his father there To guard him. But a little girl! (_Taking the_ LITTLE GIRL _to her_) What good And gentle care will guide thy maidenhood? What woman wilt thou find at father's side? One evil word from her, just when the tide Of youth is full, would wreck thy hope of love. And no more mother near, to stand above Thy marriage-bed, nor comfort thee pain-tossed In travail, when one needs a mother most! Seeing I must die.... 'Tis here, across my way, Not for the morrow, not for the third day, But now--Death, and to lie with things that were. Farewell. God keep you happy.--Husband dear, Remember that I failed thee not; and you, My children, that your mother loved you true.

LEADER. Take comfort. Ere thy lord can speak, I swear, If truth is in him, he will grant thy prayer.

ADMETUS. He will, he will! Oh, never fear for me. Mine hast thou been, and mine shalt ever be, Living and dead, thou only. None in wide Hellas but thou shalt be Admetus' bride. No race so high, no face so magic-sweet Shall ever from this purpose turn my feet. And children ... if God grant me joy of these, 'Tis all I ask; of thee no joy nor ease He gave me. And thy mourning I will bear Not one year of my life but every year, While life shall last.... My mother I will know No more. My father shall be held my foe. They brought the words of love but not the deed, While thou hast given thine all, and in my need Saved me. What can I do but weep alone, Alone alway, when such a wife is gone?... An end shall be of revel, and an end Of crowns and song and mirth of friend with friend, Wherewith my house was glad. I ne'er again Will touch the lute nor ease my heart from pain With pipes of Afric. All the joys I knew, And joys were many, thou hast broken in two. Oh, I will find some artist wondrous wise Shall mould for me thy shape, thine hair, thine eyes, And lay it in thy bed; and I will lie Close, and reach out mine arms to thee, and cry Thy name into the night, and wait and hear My own heart breathe: "Thy love, thy love is near." A cold delight; yet it might ease the sum Of sorrow.... And good dreams of thee will come Like balm. 'Tis sweet, even in a dream, to gaze On a dear face, the moment that it stays. O God, if Orpheus' voice were mine, to sing To Death's high Virgin and the Virgin's King, Till their hearts failed them, down would I my path Cleave, and naught stay me, not the Hound of Wrath, Not the grey oarsman of the ghostly tide, Till back to sunlight I had borne my bride. But now, wife, wait for me till I shall come Where thou art, and prepare our second home. These ministers in that same cedar sweet Where thou art laid will lay me, feet to feet, And head to head, oh, not in death from thee Divided, who alone art true to me!

LEADER. This life-long sorrow thou hast sworn, I too, Thy friend, will bear with thee. It is her due.

ALCESTIS. Children, ye heard his promise? He will wed No other woman nor forget the dead.

ADMETUS. Again I promise. So it shall be done.

ALCESTIS (_giving the children into his arms one after the other_). On that oath take my daughter: and my son.

ADMETUS. Dear hand that gives, I accept both gift and vow.

ALCESTIS. Thou, in my place, must be their mother now.

ADMETUS. Else were they motherless--I needs must try.

ALCESTIS. My babes, I ought to live, and lo, I die.

ADMETUS. And how can I, forlorn of thee, live on?

ALCESTIS. Time healeth; and the dead are dead and gone.

ADMETUS. Oh, take me with thee to the dark below, Me also!

ALCESTIS. 'Tis enough that one should go.

ADMETUS. O Fate, to have cheated me of one so true!

ALCESTIS (_her strength failing_). There comes a darkness: a great burden, too.

ADMETUS. I am lost if thou wilt leave me.... Wife! Mine own!

ALCESTIS. I am not thy wife; I am nothing. All is gone.

ADMETUS. Thy babes! Thou wilt not leave them.--Raise thine eye.

ALCESTIS. I am sorry.... But good-bye, children; good-bye.

ADMETUS. Look at them! Wake and look at them!

ALCESTIS. I must go.

ADMETUS. What? Dying!

ALCESTIS. Farewell, husband! [_She dies._]

ADMETUS (_with a cry_). Ah!... Woe, woe!

LEADER. Admetus' Queen is dead!

[_While_ ADMETUS _is weeping silently, and the_ CHORUS _veil their faces, the_ LITTLE BOY _runs up to his dead Mother_.]

LITTLE BOY. Oh, what has happened? Mummy has gone away, And left me and will not come back any more! Father, I shall be lonely all the day.... Look! Look! Her eyes ... and her arms not like before, How they lie ... Mother! Oh, speak a word! Answer me, answer me, Mother! It is I. I am touching your face. It is I, your little bird.

ADMETUS (_recovering himself and going to the Child_). She hears us not, she sees us not. We lie Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.

LITTLE BOY. I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold Here without Mother. It is too hard.... And you, Poor little sister, too. Oh, Father! Such a little time we had her. She might have stayed On till we all were old.... Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.

[_The_ LITTLE BOY _is taken away, with his Sister, sobbing_.]

LEADER. My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst. Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first, To lose a noble wife. Be brave, and know To die is but a debt that all men owe.

ADMETUS. I know. It came not without doubts and fears, This thing. The thought hath poisoned all my years. Howbeit, I now will make the burial due To this dead Queen. Be assembled, all of you; And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet. Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread My sceptre join in mourning for the dead With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed. Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed, Shear close your horses' manes! Let there be found Through all my realm no lute, nor lyre, nor sound Of piping, till twelve moons are at an end. For never shall I lose a closer friend, Nor braver in my need. And worthy is she Of honour, who alone hath died for me.

[_The body of_ ALCESTIS _is carried into the house by mourners;_ ADMETUS _follows it._]

CHORUS. Daughter of Pelias, fare thee well, May joy be thine in the Sunless Houses! For thine is a deed which the Dead shall tell Where a King black-browed in the gloom carouses; And the cold grey hand at the helm and oar Which guideth shadows from shore to shore, Shall bear this day o'er the Tears that Well, A Queen of women, a spouse of spouses.

Minstrels many shall praise thy name With lyre full-strung and with voices lyreless, When Mid-Moon riseth, an orbèd flame, And from dusk to dawning the dance is tireless; And Carnos cometh to Sparta's call, And Athens shineth in festival; For thy death is a song, and a fullness of fame, Till the heart of the singer is left desireless.

LEADER. Would I could reach thee, oh, Reach thee and save, my daughter, Starward from gulfs of Hell, Past gates, past tears that swell, Where the weak oar climbs thro' The night and the water!

SECOND ELDER. Belovèd and lonely one, Who feared not dying: Gone in another's stead Alone to the hungry dead: Light be the carven stone Above thee lying!

THIRD ELDER. Oh, he who should seek again A new bride after thee, Were loathed of thy children twain, And loathed of me.

LEADER. Word to his mother sped, Praying to her who bore him; Word to his father, old, Heavy with years and cold; "Quick, ere your son be dead! What dare ye for him?"

SECOND ELDER. Old, and they dared not; grey, And they helped him never! 'Twas she, in her youth and pride, Rose up for her lord and died. Oh, love of two hearts that stay One-knit for ever....

THIRD ELDER. 'Tis rare in the world! God send Such bride in my house to be; She should live life to the end, Not fail through me.

[_As the song ceases there enters a stranger, walking strongly, but travel-stained, dusty, and tired. His lion-skin and club show him to be_ HERACLES.]

HERACLES. Ho, countrymen! To Pherae am I come By now? And is Admetus in his home?

LEADER. Our King is in his house, Lord Heracles.-- But say, what need brings thee in days like these To Thessaly and Pherae's wallèd ring?

HERACLES. A quest I follow for the Argive King.

LEADER. What prize doth call thee, and to what far place?

HERACLES. The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.

LEADER. But how...? Thou know'st not? Is he strange to thee?

HERACLES. Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.

LEADER. Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.

HERACLES. So be it! I cannot fail my master's needs.

LEADER. 'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.

HERACLES. Well, I have looked on peril's face before.

LEADER. What profit hast thou in such manslaying?

HERACLES. I shall bring back the horses to my King.

LEADER. 'Twere none such easy work to bridle them.

HERACLES. Not easy? Have they nostrils breathing flame?

LEADER. They tear men's flesh; their jaws are swift with blood.

HERACLES. Men's flesh! 'Tis mountain wolves', not horses' food!

LEADER. Thou wilt see their mangers clogged with blood, like mire.

HERACLES. And he who feeds such beasts, who was his sire?

LEADER. Ares, the war-lord of the Golden Targe.

HERACLES. Enough!--This labour fitteth well my large Fortune, still upward, still against the wind. How often with these kings of Ares' kind Must I do battle? First the dark wolf-man, Lycaon; then 'twas he men called The Swan; And now this man of steeds!... Well, none shall see Alcmena's son turn from his enemy.

LEADER. Lo, as we speak, this land's high governor, Admetus, cometh from his castle door.

_Enter_ ADMETUS _from the Castle_.

ADMETUS. Zeus-born of Perseid line, all joy to thee!

HERACLES. Joy to Admetus, Lord of Thessaly!

ADMETUS. Right welcome were she!--But thy love I know.

HERACLES. But why this mourning hair, this garb of woe?

ADMETUS (_in a comparatively light tone_). There is a burial I must make to-day.

HERACLES. God keep all evil from thy children!

ADMETUS. Nay, My children live.

HERACLES. Thy father, if 'tis he, Is ripe in years.

ADMETUS. He liveth, friend, and she Who bore me.

HERACLES. Surely not thy wife? 'Tis not Alcestis?

ADMETUS (_his composure a little shaken_). Ah; two answers share my thought, Questioned of her.

HERACLES. Is she alive or dead?

ADMETUS. She is, and is not; and my heart hath bled Long years for her.

HERACLES. I understand no more. Thy words are riddles.

ADMETUS. Heard'st thou not of yore The doom that she must meet?

HERACLES. I know thy wife Has sworn to die for thee.

ADMETUS. And is it life, To live with such an oath hung o'er her head?

HERACLES (_relieved_). Ah, Weep not too soon, friend. Wait till she be dead.

ADMETUS. He dies who is doomed to die; he is dead who dies.

HERACLES. The two are different things in most men's eyes.

ADMETUS. Decide thy way, lord, and let me decide The other way.

HERACLES. Who is it that has died? Thou weepest.

ADMETUS. 'Tis a woman. It doth take My memory back to her of whom we spake.

HERACLES. A stranger, or of kin to thee?

ADMETUS. Not kin, But much beloved.

HERACLES. How came she to be in Thy house to die?

ADMETUS. Her father died, and so She came to us, an orphan, long ago.

HERACLES (_as though about to depart_). 'Tis sad. I would I had found thee on a happier day.

ADMETUS. Thy words have some intent: what wouldst thou say?

HERACLES. I must find harbour with some other friend.

ADMETUS. My prince, it may not be! God never send Such evil!

HERACLES. 'Tis great turmoil, when a guest Comes to a mourning house.

ADMETUS. Come in and rest. Let the dead die!

HERACLES. I cannot, for mere shame, Feast beside men whose eyes have tears in them.

ADMETUS. The guest-rooms are apart where thou shalt be.

HERACLES. Friend, let me go. I shall go gratefully.